Red Has No Reason

A marvelous intelligence, mindful and clear-eyed, governs the inscape of these poems where "strangeness/is so usual nothing's strange" - nor does that commanding presence hesitate a moment before welcoming magicians, who "train as pole-vaulters do - tedious, lonely practice/ broken by a moment's flight." It is such flights we witness here, increasingly aware once again of a sum greater than its parts, of moments seemingly disparate that gradually become a mosaic catching the range of a whole lif